


Stone Cold

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst and (minimal) fluff, Another 1 AM fanfiction, Dreams, F/F, First Kiss, Ghost fic sort of?, Kisses, Lots of Angst, M/M, Not What You Expected, Self Harm, Spirit???, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But Michael’s hand had been so, so very cold. And his lips had felt so, so very dead....(Believe me, I sincerely regret my life choices)





	Stone Cold

**Author's Note:**

> oof

The first time Jeremy walked in on Michael cutting himself, they had been eleven years old.

“Guess who it is? Surpri-“ Jeremy could still remember the utter panic that had flared in his chest as he saw his best friend, sobbing as he pressed a knife into his wrist. He could remember dropping his overnight sack and rushing over, pulling the knife from Michael’s hand and tossing it as far as he could from them. He remembered asking, “What’s wrong? Why do you feel like this?” He remembered Michael sobbing into his shoulder and apologising. That was the first time that Jeremy had cleaned cuts. He didn’t know it yet, but he would become proficient in that area. 

The next time was when they were fourteen. 

Michael had been clean for three whole years. And then, suddenly, out of no where, Jeremy noticed a fresh dozen of deep red cuts on Michael’s left arm. He remembered pausing their game calmly and silently motioning to Michael’s arm. He remembered Michael rolling down his hoodie sleeve in embarrassment. “Mike, I’m not mad. I just want to know why you did it. Will you tell me about it?” He remembers Michael reluctantly telling him that he’d been feeling like he was losing Jeremy. That Jeremy was too eager to become popular. He remembered Michael saying that he’d had a dream that Jeremy had abandoned Michael for popularity. And Jeremy remembered holding Michael for an half hour, assuring him and reassuring him that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The third time, they were seventeen and Jeremy had no excuses. 

“You don’t have the right to ask me about my cuts!” Michael had screamed the words in Jeremy’s face. Jeremy remembered feeling both guilt and frustration bubble in his stomach as he yelled back, “What, I don’t have the right to be fucking worried about my best friend?” And he remembered the sting of Michael’s next words: “You’re not my best friend anymore, Jeremy! You lost the right to be called that when you turned on that stupid nerve blocking!” He remembered the deadly silence that had followed. 

“And it isn’t even fair.” Michael had whispered. “It isn’t fair that we’ll never be the same. Because of you. Because you messed it up. Because you just needed Christine. Whom, may I mention, turned out to be aromantic?” Jeremy remembered wincing. He remembered opening his mouth but being cut off. “It’s always been about you, Jeremy. Ever since we were kids. You wanted to stop hugging in public because the other kids were laughing at us. You wanted to start listening to crappy music because “All the other kids are, Mikey! Let’s be cool for once!” You wanted to swallow a computer from Japan. And then, once it’s all over, it’s still about you. You want the forgiveness to just be handed to you like you deserve it! Well guess what, you don’t! Loser!” 

And Jeremy remembered. Oh, he remembered. He remembered looking down at his feet, unable to form words. Because this time, he had nothing to say. No excuses in mind. He couldn’t assure Michael that he would wait as long as he needed to for forgiveness. Because Michael was right; Jeremy wanted things to be back to normal right now. 

He remembered Michael asking, “Well? Don’t you have anything to say to that?” And Jeremy had nothing to say. Nothing but, “I’m sorry.” Michael had merely scoffed at the words. “Get out.” Michael had seethed. 

Jeremy had listened. 

And now, two days later, he found himself on the roof right outside his window, feet dangling over the side. His eyes were trained on the sky overhead. The sun was just barely beginning to dip into the horizon. Jeremy watched the pink and orange hues blend together, seeming to paint the clouds. It was so beautiful. And yet, it somehow felt bland. Like it was missing something. Jeremy felt like he was missing something. 

‘Maybe I should text Michael.’ He thought, reaching into his pocket to do exactly that. But a sudden knock on the window behind him made him jump and flip around. 

Michael was halfway through the window already, making his way over next to Jeremy and sitting down. Jeremy felt his mouth go slack, eyes wide. Why was Michael here? He’d been so angry...Jeremy was sure that Michael wouldn’t be the one to come crawling back. 

“Hey.” Michael breathed the word delicately. It sounded to feathery and light. Jeremy exhaled, gripping his bony hands together. “H-Hi.” He managed to say. Michael was staring into the sun as it set into the sky, face looking blank but relaxed. Jeremy watched him for a while, but eventually turned to watch the sunset as well. If Michael didn’t want to talk, Jeremy wouldn’t say anything. 

They sat in silence for so long that the sun disappeared all together. Jeremy could make out stars in the darkening sky, and he craned his neck to see the moon, which seemed to be hiding behind his roof. The air became chilly, and Jeremy found himself hiding his hands in the sleeves of his blue cardigan. 

“I think that we can keep going on and off like this, but we’ll always come back to each other.” Michael says finally, breaking the silence. Jeremy has to swallow because it feels like several balls of cotton have been stuffed down his throat, but he manages to speak after a moment. “But you were completely right, Michael. I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I...I want to earn it back.” There’s a pause. Then Michael glanced over, an eyebrow raised. “It?” He questions. Jeremy nods slowly, brushing some of his hair back behind his ear. “It. Your trust. Your friendship. The right to ask about your cuts. Us. I want to earn what we had back. But right now...” Jeremy licked his lips, breaking Michael’s intense eye contact. “Right now I don’t deserve you.” 

And then there’s a few more beats of silence. The cold seems to envelope Jeremy completely. He just wants to shrink into himself and fall asleep. He can feel Michael’s eyes on him, and it makes Jeremy feel uneasy. 

Then Michael is grabbing both sides of Jeremy’s face and gently tugging him up, up...and right towards Michael’s lips. 

Jeremy feels his breath catch in his throat, eyes wide. Michael’s lips are so warm. He can practically feel a buzz on Michael’s skin as he finally forces himself to snap out of it and kiss back. Everything is so overwhelmingly warm in just the right way. Jeremy brings his hands up to Michael’s shoulders and kisses Michael with all he has. ‘I’m sorry,’ He conveys through the kiss. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’m sorry.’ 

When they pull away, Jeremy is dazed and feels hazy. Michael is smiling slightly as he fixes his glasses. “I believe you,” He says quietly. Jeremy blinks, trying to remember their conversation. “Hm?” Michael chuckles, glancing back towards the sky. “I believe that you’ll try to earn it back. I’ll try to let you. But for now...I think I’m gonna get back home.” Michael stands up, stretching. Jeremy watches from his spot for a second, as Michael’s arms seem to reach up towards the stars. 

“What time is it?” Jeremy asks as he stands up next to Michael. They crawl back into Jeremy’s room before Michael answers. “It’s only eight-thirty.” He says quietly. Jeremy frowns, about to ask how Michael knows. He hadn’t exactly pulled out his phone or anything. “How—“

“Walk me out?” Michael asks, looking hopeful and really tired all of a sudden. Jeremy swallows back his question, nodding along. “Y-yeah. Okay.” They both make their way quietly out of Jeremy’s room and down the stairs, towards the front door. As they pass Jeremy’s living room, Michael takes hold of Jeremy’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Jeremy let’s out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, but doesn’t comment. Simply basks in the glory of holding Michael’s hand. (Michael’s hand is really cold, and even though Jeremy knows they were just outside in the chilly air, it bothers him. He doesn’t know why.)

“I’ll see you at school?” Michael asks once they stand in Jeremy’s doorway. Jeremy nods eagerly, allowing himself a small smile as he lets go of Michael’s (freezing, stone cold) hand. “Definitely.” And then he finds it in himself to lean forward and kiss Michael again. This time, Michael lips are cold. But Jeremy doesn’t pay that any attention. Because their Michael’s lips. Michael’s cold lips. 

“Bye.” Michael murmurs as they pull away. He lingers there for a moment longer than he should, though. Then he takes a step back and stuffs his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Bye.” Jeremy says in return, waving slightly. He watches Michael walk away until he can’t see him anymore. 

When Jeremy closes the door, he’s hit with relief and anxiety all at once. Relief: he and Michael were on their way to healing. Anxiety: Michael and Jeremy had kissed. What had that meant? 

Jeremy decided to ignore both for now. Instead, he giddily thought of Michael’s lips on his own. They had been right on his just a few moments ago. It made him want to squeal. 

When he returned to his bedroom, the first thing he heard was his phone. It dinged with a text. Then another. And then there was a call coming through. Jeremy frowned, wondering if it was Michael. He crossed his room and picked up his phone. It was...one of Michael’s mom’s?

“Laura?” Jeremy says into the phone, so very confused. In response, Jeremy gets a wet sniffle. “I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” She says. Jeremy opens his mouth to ask what’s going on; why Laura’s crying; anything. “It’s...it’s Michael.” 

Jeremy feels his heart stop. His blood freeze. His lungs pause. Jeremy feels his entire being come to a halt. 

“It was around—around five thirty, we think. Michael...he took his own life. I’m sorry, Jeremy...” And Jeremy doesn’t hear anymore, because what?

Hadn’t it been less than two minutes ago that Michael had kissed him? Hadn’t it been less than five minutes ago that Michael had told him it was ‘only eight-thirty?’ Hadn’t it been less than ten minutes ago that Michael had started their road back to recovery? 

But Michael’s hand had been so, so very cold. And his lips had felt so, so very dead. 

In a blind panic, Jeremy drops his phone and runs out of his room, down the stairs, and out to the front lawn. Michael couldn’t have gotten very far. He had been heading home. Michael always took the same route. 

Jeremy felt his legs running faster than they ever had. He could feel the burn in his thighs, in his lungs, in his heart. Michael should be here, he kept thinking to himself. But Jeremy got closer and closer to Michael’s house, and he hadn’t found any Michael. 

“No!” Jeremy half sobs as he runs, faster, faster. He’ll find Michael. He’s sure of it. Michael was just here. Michael had just kissed him. 

He only stops running when he reaches Michael’s house. There’s a police car and an ambulance in the driveway, and Jeremy can see the basement light on. He doesn’t dare take a step closer, nor does he dare move at all. He merely huffs and watches, tears stinging his eyes but not spilling out yet. 

He watches as the front door opens. He watches as two paramedics bring out a stretcher. There’s a body on that stretcher. There’s a tarp covering up that body. 

It’s then that Jeremy finds it in himself to move. He runs over, begging them to let him see Michael one more time. It’s then that his tears decide to spill out and soak his cheeks. The paramedics look back and forth from Jeremy to each other, like they don’t know what’s going on. And how can they not? How can they not piece together that Jeremy had lost his best friend three hours ago and he doesn’t know what’s going on because he had kissed his best friend a half hour ago. It’s then that they decide to pull back the tarp. 

And there’s Michael. His eyes are shut, his thick brown eyelashes damp, like he’d been crying. There was a sticky substance around his mouth, and Jeremy did not want to know what it was. His lips were in a straight line. And his neck. On Michael’s neck was a thick red line, circling all around. 

Jeremy felt sobs rock his body, but he couldn’t say anything. So he pressed his forehead against Michael’s and gripped his friends cold shoulder. Everything about Michael used to be so warm but now everything is freezing cold. Jeremy doesn’t know how long he cries there, in that position, but he does know that when the paramedics pull him away from Michael, there are tears on Michael’s cheeks. (They aren’t Michael’s.) 

Jeremy let’s them take Michael away. Mostly because he knows struggling will just hurt worse. Mostly because he knows that nothing can be done. Mostly because he wants to know so many things but also knows he’ll never find out. 

As Michael’s mom’s come out and pull Jeremy into a hug, Jeremy can do no more than watch the ambulance drive down the street and out of sight. There are still tears slipping down his cheeks, but he just feels numb. 

Jeremy decides that people don’t look peaceful when they die. They just look dead.

**Author's Note:**

> oof x2


End file.
